No One Really Wins
by morelia-love
Summary: A Fic about Cato and an OC, but there is no Katniss or Peeta. However, there's still something standing in the way of Cato winning...
1. Chapter 1

I wait as patiently as possible, but time is dragging so slow. My foot taps impatiently on the ground, and my fingers twist around themselves.

"Waiting for someone?" a voice comes from behind me, and I spin to face my company.

"Yeah, actually, I am," I reply. "My boyfriend. He's huge, strong, completely lethal. So you should probably get out of here before he arrives."

"He doesn't scare me," Cato says with a grin, closing the distance between us quickly and wrapping me up in his arms to kiss me.

"He probably won't even show anyway," I say when we pull apart, slightly breathless. "He trains at the academy and all the girls chase after him."

Cato's hand comes up to brush my hair away from my face. "But why would I want any of them, when I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world?" His voice comes out in a whisper.

I let out a breathy laugh. Even after the year we've spent together, I get giddy from the emotions we share. "Let's get out of here," I whisper back, wanting to keep away from the academy while we can.

"This new kid's just started this week, he's eight," Cato says, unable to hide his huge smile. "I can see myself mentoring him for the Games in ten years."

My face drops. "Cato..." I trail off. I know there's no use in saying anything.

"What?" he asks, shaking his head because he already knows.

"Nothing," I reply, my voice cracking, revealing the lie.

Cato shuffles over to pull me tightly to his chest. "You knew this was going to happen. There's no point not talking about it." When did Cato become the voice of reason? "And besides, I'm going to win, so it doesn't matter." He kisses my neck several times.

"It still matters to me," I get out before I break down, sobbing silently into Cato's broad chest. Why can't he see how much this kills me?

_I hack furiously away at the dummy in front of me. _

_"Your technique could use some work." _

_I turn to see a boy - tall, blonde, muscular - watching my assault. I know who he is - everyone knows who he is. Cato, the most promising Career for next year's Hunger Games. The kid is so far up himself - he drives me insane._

_"Whatever," is the only retort I can muster. Then I can't stop the ramble. "Doesn't even matter. Nayda was chosen as this year's female tribute. I trained for ten years, and it's for nothing!" I blindly flail with the sword, and I only stop when a set of strong hands are holding my arms still._

_"Maybe not getting picked is a good thing." His voice is right at my ear._

_I snort. "Says the boy who's a shoe in for next year's Games." I roll my eyes and spin to face him._

_Cato looks cocky - but deservedly so I guess. "Well, at least that gives me a year to get to know you better." His eyes are intense, holding my gaze._

_I burst out laughing. "You're kidding right?" But I stop laughing when I see he doesn't find it amusing. "Oh," I breathe out, then quickly compose myself. "You're an idiot," I snap, my face screwing up in disgust. "Like I'd want anything to do with you after everything I've heard."_

_"Well I heard you were the favourite for the Games this year, so I guess we can't believe everything we hear," he says once my back is turned._

_He did not seriously just say that. Out of sheer anger and frustration, I flip out, and within a few seconds I have Cato pinned on the ground. "Well, I guess you better keep practicing instead of chasing after girls. Otherwise in a year you're going to be dead." I pat his cheek condescendingly. "And just so you know," I lean in close and whisper in his ear, "I don't date dead guys." I get off of him and walk away._

_"You caught me off guard," he says lamely._

_I laugh. "Oh yeah, and your fellow Tributes next year are gonna announce their presence before they try and kill you." I roll my eyes._

_"Help me out then," he calls as I'm almost out the door._

_I stop and turn. "You want help from the girl who wasn't good enough?" I ask him in disbelief. "I think maybe you should go to Brutus."_

_"Brutus is going to be gone for the next few weeks," he says quickly. "And the other trainers here aren't worth shit. So train me just for a few weeks, while the Games are on."_

_My mind conflicts with itself. I know that helping Cato is a bad idea for many reasons, but the one reason that keeps popping up over the others says, 'If you train him, you're going to fall in love with him.'_

_Damn._

About an hour ago I stopped crying, but neither Cato nor I has moved. I wish we never had to move again. I wish we could stay wrapped up together forever.

"My parents will wonder where I am soon," I say emotionlessly, looking at the sun getting ready to set.

"My parents won't care," Cato says, pulling us up and kissing just below my ear.

Neither one of us told our parents when we first started seeing each other, and since then it's just never come up. But I like it being a secret anyway - it feels more special.

"Tomorrow?" Cato asks, never letting undying hope trickle into his voice like I always do.

"I have the family breakfast tomorrow, like always." I say this each Friday, but we always go through the motions. "But then I'm all yours." I smile as I say it, but then stop myself, when I think that this will be the last time that I say it. This is our last weekend together before next Saturday's reaping.

"Good." He squeezes me again, and I close my eyes and lean into him. "Don't cry," he says, obviously feeling the tears build up inside of me. "Please don't cry." His throat sounds constricted, and when I look up I see him staring out at nothing, his eyes squinting.

Now it's my turn to act as though everything's ok, because I've never seen Cato like this. I reach up and nip at his neck, drawing his attention back down to me. "Race you back to the edge of town," I say cheekily, already leaping up and running for my life.

Of course I win, I've always been quick - not to mention the very unfair head start I had. I laugh uncontrollably as I lean against a building for support. Cato doesn't look pleased, he's never enjoyed coming second place to anyone. But he smiles and comes over to kiss me one last time before we part ways.

"I'll meet you here tomorrow at 11." And then he's gone.

I stand motionless for several minutes, enjoying the tingling feeling that still plays on my lips. Only when I realise I'm standing in near total darkness do I hurry to get home, thinking of some silly excuse to tell my parents when they ask my whereabouts.


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast can't pass quick enough. My mother is chatty, bubbly, continuously trying to keep the conversation going between myself, my father and my little sister. But the three of us - we're not much for talking. Finally the torture is over, and I race to my room to check how I look and then run out of the house. My parents have to know I go to see a boy. Why else would I put in so much effort?

I arrive just before 11, but of course Cato is already there. He's always the early one on Saturdays and Sundays. Fridays are the only days I wait for him. I fall into step beside him, his fingers intertwine with my own, and we start walking.

After a few moments, Cato breaks the silence. "Are you mad at me, for wanting to do this?"

I stop and pull Cato to me. I look at our hands locked together. "No," I answer truthfully. "I've been there. I know what it's like to want to volunteer, to make your district proud." I think back to a year ago, and the thought almost makes me shudder.

Cato smiles. "I remember that. You were crazy. How'd you get over it so quick?" I can tell he thinks he's funny.

"I met a boy," I start, and I watch as his face lights up, "and I realised I had a good reason to stay." I've never said that last bit before, and Cato's face falters.

"Are you upset that I can't do the same?" Cato asks now.

I can't answer honestly now. Instead I just shake my head and wish the tears would stop threatening to fall.

Cato pulls his hands from mine. "Rem, I care about you. You know I do." My heart skips a beat when he avoids the L word again. "But I just, I have to do this. You've known that all along."

"I know, ok?" I look up at him and bite at my lip. "I know it's going to happen. I know I can't stop you. And I know you said there's no point in pretending it won't happen. But for the sake of my sanity, can we just not talk about this weekend? Please?" I look into his eyes, practically begging. "I just want this to be like any other weekend. I don't want to be reminded that it could be our last weekend together ever."

Cato's face quickly turns into a smirk. "You know what we do every other weekend?" His tongue pushes out his cheek as he fights the huge grin that threatens to take over his face.

His cheeky behaviour has always been infectious, and in a second I'm smiling away, and then squealing as he picks me up and spins me around before laying us on the ground. Just like every other weekend, I enjoy him just as much as every other time.

My feet dangle over the edge of the old mine as I wait.

"That's not safe," Cato says as he comes to sit beside me. "Old mines collapse all the time."

"It probably will now with your weight on it," I tease, poking his ribs.

"That's right, babe. Muscle weighs more than fat!" He flexes his arms.

I can't help but laugh. I don't think he'll ever outgrow his cocky ways - especially if he dies in two weeks. I stop laughing and just sit there.

"Let's go," Cato says, obviously sensing my increased depression. He gets up and pulls me along behind him.

Just like yesterday we spend the day together, pretending it isn't our last weekend together. But he does a better job of pretending than I do.

"Another weekend ending," I say while I hug Cato. It's what I say every Sunday. "Do you really have to go back to the Academy?"

"Just as much as you have to go back to work," he chuckles.

I pull back to look up at his face, my hands wrapped around his neck. "Oh well, at least Friday isn't too far." Pretending is so stupid, but it's making me feel better.

Cato says nothing, and I watch as his jaw clenches.

"Cato?" I ask, knowing he's hiding something from me.

"I won't be able to see you Friday," he says, finally looking at me.

I pull back and distance myself from him a little. I say nothing, what can I say? I just stare.

"Rem," Cato says, coming toward me, but I dodge him. "What did you want me to do? Tell you this would be our last day together before I left? You know you wouldn't have enjoyed it then. You would have just been worrying."

Maybe, maybe that's true. But now I just feel sick. Now I feel like maybe we could've done something special, something memorable. "Here," I say, my hands fumbling as I grasp at the clasp on my necklace.

Cato puts his hands over my own and steadies me. The necklace finally comes undone, and I pull the ring from it. "A token," I say rushed. "A tribute token. You're allowed one."

"Rem, I can't take this," he says, trying to push the ring back to me.

"Do you already have a token?" I ask, feeling a little hurt.

"No, but-" he starts. And I know he thinks he can't take it because it used to belong to my grandfather. But I want Cato to have it.

"Then take it," I say forcefully. "Wear it. And think of home. And come back." I can't stop my voice or my body from trembling.

Cato slips the ring onto his right hand, and it's a perfect fit. It's a beautiful ring, made by great grandfather, who was a blacksmith.

"Remedy," Cato says, pulling me close. His voice is soft and breathless. "I lo-"

"No!" I protest, putting my fingers over Cato's lips. "No, don't you say that now. You've had a year to say it, and you haven't. So don't say it today." I'm almost crying again. "Say it when you come home, ok?"

I want to let him tell me how much he loves me, and I want to say it back. But it just feels like we'd be saying it for the sake of saying it today. Like maybe we'll never get another chance, so we just have to say it. Even if we don't mean it. I'd mean it, I know that. And I know Cato wouldn't lie. But I don't want to hear it today.

"You're coming to the Reaping?" Cato asks, his eyes closed as he leans down to me.

"Of course," I whisper, my hands holding onto his biceps for support.

Cato nods and then kisses me. "I'll be the one volunteering," he says with a small laugh.

I laugh only to keep myself from crying. "Well, then, I guess I'll see you there." We kiss again, slow and gentle. But when we pull back to leave, I know it's not good enough. I've never forgotten our first kiss, and if this is our last, I never want to forget it either.

I bring us back together, pushing myself onto Cato urgently. He lifts me effortlessly, and my legs wrap around his waist. My hands run through his short blonde hair, while his hands grip my butt. A moment later we come up for air, gasping. He lowers me gently, and it takes a moment for me to find my legs. We both know there's nothing more we can say or do, so with our hands locked together, we start to go our own ways, until just our fingertips are touching. And then nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

"Let's find out who the lucky male Tribute is first!" The exuberant man trills. Not that it matters who he pulls from the glass bowl, I know what will happen. I've been playing it over in my head nonstop the past week. "Gabriel To-"

"I volunteer," Cato says before the name is finished. He walks out confidently, escorted to the stage by Peacekeepers. He gives his name, smiles when necessary, works the crowd a little - it's all so rehearsed for him.

Me? I've had a year to prepare for his leaving, and I still can't believe that in about an hour he'll be on a train with a possibility of never coming back. No - I shake my head. I can't think like that, because I know Cato - he'll come home. Still, I feel myself tremble as I watch him standing there.

"Ok, ladies next," says the District 2 escort cheerfully. "Georgia He-," he says before he's interrupted again.

"I volunteer as tribute," comes a female voice.

I hadn't known there was a female tribute. Cato told me nothing about it, but then again, no one should know anything about the Careers. Cato had told me - though it was obvious anyway - and sworn me to secrecy.

"What's your name?" I hear the escort ask, but I don't really care. I still feel sick thinking about Cato, so I stare at my twisted fingers.

"Clove Winters," Comes the reply.

My head slowly lifts, and I pray my eyes don't confirm what I've just heard. But there she is - black hair, brown eyes, lightly freckled skin. Clove, my baby sister.

I don't know how I get out of the crowd with my parents. I'm numb, deaf, blind, mute - nothing registers but suddenly I snap back.

"Clove," I choke out, and collapse onto my mother.

"I know," is her reply, and I wonder if she did know.

"Let's go see her," my father says, and he sounds relatively composed.

Again my body moves on its own accord, or perhaps my parents have to drag me. But in minutes we're at a door that will lead us to Clove.

"You have three minutes," the Peacekeeper says.

"What did you do?!" I demand once we're in.

"Remedy!" my mother cries, probably not wanting our last minutes filled with fights.

"I was the best in all of my classes," Clove says, cold and factual.

"You're 14!" I cry, unable to see the sense in it. "Why didn't someone older volunteer?" My hands are gripping Clove's shoulders, and I can feel my mother trying to pull me off.

Clove's hands wrap around my wrists, and she detaches me gently. "I'm the best, I can win," Clove says, and apparently that's that.

I shake my head and fight back tears. I want to hug her, but I know she'll just push me away. She's always wanted this, and she's never been very emotional.

"You'll do us proud, we know that," our father says.

I don't know what to say. "Bye," I say dumbly, giving a small wave before pushing my way out of the room. I don't want to be in there anymore.

I see Cato's dad walking down the hall. He's finished talking to his son already? I walk over to the Peacekeeper, looking around nervously as I do. "Is anyone - I mean, is he alone?" I point to the room that I know Cato is in.

"You have three minutes," he says, moving aside.

My whole body shakes, I don't know if I want three minutes. I don't know if I want to go in at all. But I do. Cato looks up as I enter, and he almost looks surprised for a second before he looks concerned and comes towards me.

"Don't!" I growl, putting my hands up and blocking his attempt at contact. "Did you know about Clove?" I say quietly, but my voice is like ice.

"Rem, come on," he says, almost pleading.

"Did you know?!" I scream.

Cato looks down, defeated. "Yeah, but I couldn't say anything. She made me promise. It wasn't my secret to tell." When he looks up at me, he looks as though he's been torn apart.

"It would have been nice to know," I say, my voice cracking, "that either my sister or my boyfriend was volunteering to die."

In a second, Cato is there, holding me tightly to him, even though I'm struggling to get away.

"Don't touch me!" I screech. "You lied to me!" My rants are crazed, ridiculous, and uncontrollable. "I hate you!" I cry into his shoulder as he kisses my neck.

Cato whispers something in my ear, so quietly that I'm not even sure I've heard right. "Peacekeeper!" he yells, pulling me from him and holding me out at arm's length as I stand there stunned.

When someone grabs me to take me out of the room, it hits me. "No! No!" I scream repeatedly, choking on my tears. "Cato, no! I didn't mean it! Let me go!" I hit at the Peacekeeper now.

"Get her out of here," Cato says, his ice blue eyes blank, and then he turns his back.

"Cato, please! I love you!" The door is shut now, myself and Cato on opposite sides. I hope he heard me.

"You need to leave," is all the Peacekeeper says, blocking the door.

"But we didn't get three minutes." I'm pretty sure of that, it all happened so quick.

The Peacekeeper looks almost sad before his cold stare returns. "He doesn't want you in there," is all he says.

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. The words hit me so hard, like the force of when Cato and I would collide into each other at full spring - so desperate to see and hold each other as soon as possible when he got weekends off from the academy. The words feel like they physically hit me, and I crumple to the ground. A moment later my parents find me curled up on the floor, and they carry me home.


	4. Chapter 4

"Remedy, the Tributes' Parade is about to start," my mother says as she enters my room. "Come and watch."

"No," is my response, and it's been my response to everything the past two days. Every time she tried to get me to eat, drink, get out of bed, it was always the same response. No.

She stays in the doorway, but I'm guessing she's watching the TV too, because a moment later she says, "Clove looks beautiful. Cato too."

I don't know what it is that gives me the strength to get up, but I make my way over and peek out the doorway. There they are, adorned in gold outfits. The audience is cheering loudly, and it reminds me that the two people I love most in the world will be fighting to the death for the Capitol's entertainment. I collapse where I stand.

For a few days, the Tributes are in training, so I don't bother watching anything. I've trained with Cato enough times to know what he's capable of. And I don't really want to know if the other Tributes are better or worse than him. Though just from looks, I only see a couple that may actually give Cato a run for his money. Instead I stay locked in my room, and hope that the next few weeks pass quickly, and that someone I love will come home.

Thursday night I'm forced to join my parents for dinner before Caesar Flickermann interviews the Tributes. We don't talk during dinner, and we don't have to wait long for the District Two interviews. Clove is up first, and she prances out as she's introduced. She certainly doesn't hold as much charm as the girl from District One.

"Welcome, Clove, welcome. Come have a seat," Caesar gushes as she walks over.

Clove smiles as sits beside the extravagant host.

"Now, Clove, first things first. You are the third youngest Tribute this year. And the youngest volunteer we've had in quite a while!"

Clove smiles, but it's not warm, its forced. "Well Caesar I don't think age has anything to do with it. I'm just as lethal as anyone else out there, more lethal than most. So I think I have a good chance of becoming one of the youngest victors ever."

Everyone cheers. "Ooh, so confident. We love it!"

"Confidence is key, Caesar. But it's more than that. I know all of my strengths, and while I can't tell you everything, I think everyone should trust that I can win. I'd bet on me." Clove works the crowd.

It continues like that for the next five minutes. She's brutal, honest and downright scary, if people don't think she can win then they're crazy.

"Alright, well they must breed them tough in District Two, because our next guest definitely looks the part. Please welcome Cato!"

The crowd goes nuts as Cato walks out. He looks so handsome, dressed black jeans, black dress shirt and black leather jacket. He sits down and crosses his legs, his arms stretched out over the chair. Even in a casual situation he looks intimidating.

"Cato," Caesar starts but then seems to be lost for words. "Well, what can I say, I mean look at you!" He motions to all of Cato, who laughs. "The girls here in the Capitol certainly can't get enough of you."

Cato laps up the compliments, waving and smiling at the crowd as they start cheering and whistling at him.

"Oh, stop!" Caesar laughs. "You'll break a few hearts." Cato shrugs, giving a cheeky apologetic look to the crowd. "Now, we don't get to see everything, but from what we did see, you're quite good with a sword."

"Only quite good?" Cato plays it up, looking hurt. "Oh man, I thought I was better than that! Maybe I'm not ready for the Games." Everyone laughs, they really love him. And how could they not? He's always been a charmer.

"Ok, so better than good!" Caesar says with a laugh. "I just didn't want it to go to your head."

Cato laughs. "Too late for that. I know I'm going to win, you all know I'm going to win. What more is there to say?" The crowd goes wild.

"You're certainly confident, maybe even a little cocky!" Caesar jokes.

Cato shrugs. "I don't think it's cockiness when it's the truth." He winks.

Caesar laughs. "I think I'll have to agree with you, because I'm worried what will happen if I don't." He tugs at his collar.

"Well I'm vicious, I'm ready to fight," Cato says smugly, earning an over the top scared look from Caesar. "But I don't think it'd be wise to kill the most popular man on TV."

"Oh, why thank you!" Caesar gushes, loving that he's receiving compliments now. "And I don't doubt that you are ready to fight."

"I wouldn't have volunteered otherwise. I'm here to represent my district, and to make them proud. And I know that's what I'm going to do," Cato states simply.

The compliments and confident attitude continue for another couple of minutes, and it takes everything I have to not cry or scream Cato's name. He's easily got nearly every person in the Capitol on his side. He'll have sponsors and gifts galore, he can easily win the Games.

"Why didn't you tell us you were seeing Cato?" my mother asks out of the blue.

I stare at her blankly, thinking of something to say. Why didn't I tell them about Cato and I? Because I didn't want to. "I don't know," I say with a shrug.

"He's clearly one of the best men around District 2. Of course we'd approve of him," my father goes on. "If he comes home, we'll have him over for dinner."

I swallow hard. "If he comes home, then Clove wont," I say hollowly. And I think, but if Clove comes home, then Cato won't.

"And if that's the case, she'll have died making us proud I'm sure," is his response.

I let out a sigh before throwing my utensils down and heading for my room. I lay in bed, curled up tightly, holding my knees to my chest. I imagine it's Cato holding me and I begin to sob at the thought.

I think about the last time we were together, his voice full of nothing but concern when he whispered in my ear. His act of detachment that followed just that, an act. It killed me to know that on our last day together I told him I hated him, though we both knew it wasn't true.

But the fact that it was our last day together, I know that to be the truth. I heard no doubt in his voice when he whispered those words.

_'I promise that Clove will come home.'_


	5. Chapter 5

I watch the Games, though I really don't want to. But all I can think is that I don't want my parents coming in to tell me that Clove or Cato is gone. They'll be full of pride, and I don't want to hear that. I'll want to grieve, like any normal person should. I can't stand to think of them coming in with a smile on their faces saying, "Clove won, but Cato died an honourable death."

Ceasar Flickermann converses with Claudius Templesmith, and together they make sickening predictions about what is to begin very soon.

"Well, we have a few tens, so it will be interesting to watch them. But of course you can never count out the other Tributes. Didn't we learn that last year when Striker from 10 won, with only a five!" Caesar says, and they laugh. "I know we thought she'd be the first to go." Again laughter.

"But now, let's be serious. Who is your favourite?" Claudius asks, pursing his lips.

"Ooh that is a tough one, but from experiencing the Tributes first hand, I'd have to say..." Caesar muses for a minute. "Clove from District Two." The crowd ooh's as he says this. "There's something about her. She definitely wants to win. How about your favourite?"

Claudius looks excited. "Well, I'm going to agree with the majority of the public on this one and say Cato. All money's on him, and I'd say that's a safe bet! I mean he is just a monster of a boy!"

Again they're laughing. Maybe I should feel a little better that my sister and Cato are favourites. But of course only one will come home, so there's nothing to be happy about.

"Oh, we're getting word they're almost in the arena! Lets cross live now!" Caesar exclaims excitedly. "Oh there's the arena, doesn't it look amazing..."

I tune them out now, because I don't care. All I care about is having someone I care about come home. Slowly the Tributes begin to rise up in the tubes, but until the cameras are on Clove or Cato, I can't see them.

And suddenly, he's there, filling my TV screen, and my heart skips a beat. His face, to anyone else, might look blank, emotionless, maybe even bored. But to me it's like I can see his thoughts as they go through his mind. I imagine his cocky face, leaning over mine, one hand tracing patterns on my stomach.

'It's easy,' he says, giving me his confident grin. 'Secure all the supplies, secure your place as victor.' He shrugs. 'Kill anyone that gets in my way. And then come home,' he touches his nose to my own, 'to you.' He leans in and plants a soft, delicate kiss on my lips.

I snap back to reality, and realise I'm smiling, my fingers brushing over my lips, the ghostly feel of Cato on them. I shake my head and return my focus to the TV. I listen carefully as the countdown begins and I watch as Cato and Clove prepare to battle to the death.

I don't know what I expected. Chaos, I'm sure I expected chaos. But I can barely keep up with the many camera angles. Everyone runs, but my eyes try and stay on Cato and Clove whenever possible.

When it happens, it's almost like slow motion. Cato's hands - the same hands that brushed my cheek gently, softly traced over my body - now kill mercilessly. In a swift movement the boy's body crumples down at an obscure angle, and Cato looks down at his handy work with a grin. Watching Cato's first kill is nothing like I expected. I always knew he'd never hesitate, but I never knew he would look so happy while doing it. I lean forward and heave, my breakfast reappearing on the floor. I'll clean it up later, once the action dies down and I know Clove and Cato are safe.

After the initial battle for possession of the Cornucopia and its precious supplies, 12 are dead. Three killed by Cato, two by Clove and then most others by the District One Tributes who seem to have formed an alliance with District Two. Of course the Careers Alliance now occupies the Cornucopia, and the remaining eight Tributes are scattered throughout the arena - just waiting to be hunted down by the Careers.

"It seems our Tributes are about to settle in for the night. I'm sure some will get a better nights sleep than others." Laughter. "Let's check in on them one last time."

"I'll take first watch," Cato says, his voice leaving no room for argument. He climbs up onto the Cornucopia, and I watch as he settles in, playing with his sword in his hands. The camera zooms in on his face as he looks up at the stars. It's the first time since he left that I've seen him look childlike and innocent. I miss that part of him so much.

Over the next ten days, nothing much changes. Each day the Careers go out and look for other Tributes to kill. They all take it in turns, because they all love killing and it's only fair apparently. I seem to have become numb to it all. I thought I'd feel sick each time Cato killed someone, but now I don't bat an eyelid.

"Cato and Layla, you two should head that way," Clove instructs. "There's definitely a Tribute over there." She turns to the boy from District One. "You and I will track that little bitch from Four."

And they're off. Caesar and Claudius talk most of the time, but I either mute the TV or block them out. They're comments are stupid and sickening, and all I really want to know from the Games is if Cato and Clove are ok.

I hear a scream and I snap to attention, I must have blanked out. But when I focus, I see the girl, Layla, in Cato's arms. He's choking her so she can't scream again.

"District Two is winning the Games this year," Cato says, and then he snaps her neck, letting her fall to the ground.

When she drops I see the knife sticking out of Cato's chest. I wince at the thought of the pain, and I hope it hasn't hit anything vital. He brings his hand up, ready to pull it out.

"No!" I say to him. "Don't pull it out! If you pull it out, it'll bleed badly. I know you never paid attention to survival class, but don't be an idiot!"

Cato looks up to the trees, as though he's looking for something, then he takes his hand from the knife and keeps walking, the weapon still protruding from his chest.

The screen then cuts to Clove and Striker. Before he can react, Clove has three knives dug into Striker's back, and he falls down, probably not even realising what happened.

"Well, it seems the alliance is over," Claudius says with a laugh. "I wonder if Clove and Cato are still going to work together. There's still four other Tributes out there."

"Oh, I think it's about to be three!" Caesar exclaims, pointing to the screen as Cato ambushes the small boy from seven. "That boy can certainly wield a sword!"

Clove continues on her quest to find the girl from Four, and she succeeds very quickly. I reluctantly leave the TV and go to bed. As I'm lying there, I close my eyes and beg to no one in particular that Clove and Cato be safe through the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Four. Four Tributes left. The Game Makers will want to hurry things up soon, so I watch intently as Cato and Clove start devising a plan.

"The girl from six will be around, waiting for us to leave. She's hopeless on her own, and won't have any supplies," Clove says, playing with her knives.

"The guy from nine will have a nice set up somewhere. He won't be seeking us out until he has to," Cato adds. "So what's the plan?"

"I'll stay here and wait for the girl to come, you go out looking for nine," Clove answers as though it's the simplest thing.

Cato shifts uncomfortably. "I don't think we should split up..."

Clove rolls her eyes. "Six won't come while you're here. And we can't both leave to find nine. So get some stuff and get going!" she hisses.

Cato shakes his head but does as he's told. I know myself there's no way to argue with Clove, but I'm with Cato on this one. It isn't a great plan. The guy from nine, Wrath, is monstrous. Not quite as tall, but more muscular than Cato. And the girl from six is cunning, she'll sneak up on Clove with no warning.

The screen cuts back to Caesar. "So, here's the game changer everyone," he says with a grin, pausing for effect. "Both Tulip and Wrath are watching our favourites as they plan!" As he says this, footage of the other two Tributes is shown. "Let's see what happens."

What happens is Cato doesn't realise they're being watched, and he leaves Clove alone. My heart races as I think of what may happen to her. The girl from six isn't cunning enough, and Clove catches sight of her, effortlessly hunting her down. But Clove's sadistic side shines through, as I expect, and while she tortures Tulip, Wrath closes in behind her.

"Clove!" I scream at the screen. "Clove turn around! Please!" I beg and plead at the TV screen.

As she delivers the killing cut to Tulip, she's dragged off the body by Wrath.

"You think torturing people is fun?!" Wrath demands, pushing her to the ground.

"Cato!" Clove screams, and it sends shivers through my body. She doesn't get a chance to scream again, as the muscular boy's hands grip around her throat. They then cut to a split screen, and I watch as Cato registers what Clove's scream must mean.

"Clove," he whispers, his face full of shock. He springs, faster than I've ever seen him move. Tree branches hit him, he leaps over fallen logs, but he doesn't stop.

"I'll do you the favour of making it quick," Wrath says on the other side of the screen, and I can see he doesn't enjoy this. I can see he just wants to go home. But still, he does it - to save himself. And in an instant, my baby sister lies lifeless beneath the giant hulk of a boy. Her eyes are open, and her head lolls to the side.

"Clove!" Cato screams, clearly giving away his approach.

Wrath's head snaps up at the sound, and he gets up and heads for the opposite side of the clearing, disappearing into the woods. A moment later Cato bursts into the clearing, and he slows as he takes in what's in front of him. He ignores Tulip's mangled body, and slowly approaches the lifeless Clove.

I watch as Cato's hands ball into fists, and he falls to his knees beside my sister. And suddenly, he's crying. No, that doesn't even describe it. It's like howling. It's the most haunting sounds I've ever heard. I've never seen Cato cry before - ever. He grips her head in his hands, and his head collapses onto her chest. He says something, but it's muffled.

"What's this?" Caesar Flickermann's voice asks with piqued interest.

And it's only at that moment that I notice it too. Wrath is sneaking up behind Cato. Cato sits up, his face streaked with tears, but he's no longer crying. Instead, I'm crying at what's to come.

"Cato, you have to hear me. Turn around." I'm on my knees, straight in front of the TV. My hands is on the screen, trying to reach through and turn him around as I keep begging.

And it's like it works. In a second, he snaps back to reality, and just in time he rolls to the side to avoid Wrath's large knife. He's on his feet, sword at the ready. They size each other up for a moment, circling carefully.

"You can do this Cato," I whisper. "You have to come home for me."

"You killed Clove," Cato says, seeming in a daze again.

"I just want to go home," Wrath says.

Cato snaps. "Clove was supposed to go home!" He charges wildly forward.

It works to knock Wrath off guard, but in the process they both lose their weapons. I hold my breath. Cato excels at hand to hand combat, but he was always the biggest at the academy, how he'll fare against the hulking Wrath I don't know. But the look in Cato's eyes is desperate and crazed, like a cornered animal.

The two Tributes lunge at each other numerous times, wresting to the ground and rolling around in the dirt. Punches are exchanged, scrambling for weapons occurs. It's so even, but then Wrath gets the upper hand, and he's on top of Cato, delivering multiple blows to Cato's face.

Cato looks to the side, and the wide angle shows him looking so desperately at Clove. Her lifeless eyes are staring in his direction. He must dig deep, finding his last bit of strength as Wrath chokes him. With a few swift movements, Wrath is knocked off and Cato has a first grip around his neck. The cries that escape Cato as he bashes Wrath's head in are barely human.

I'm sure the Tribute from Nine is dead, but it takes a moment for Cato to cease his violent attack. When he's done, it's like he realises what he's done. He looks at his hands, and I can see them shaking, stained with his own and Wrath's blood.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice says, "We present to you, the winner of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. From District Two, Cato!"


	7. Chapter 7

My parents don't come with me when I go to wait for the train. Why would they? Clove isn't on it.

He steps off, and I can see his smile is forced as he waves to everyone. His mother envelopes him immediately, and his father pats his back in that proud fatherly way. When they pull apart, I move closer, and Cato sees me. His face drops, and he only stays a few seconds before he turns to leave, Brutus and his parents following behind.

I freeze, the crowd slowly dispersing from around me. Moments later I'm still glued to my spot. I don't know what just happened, but it was nothing like the passionate reunion I had envisioned.

Days pass and Cato is constantly the centre of attention. The goods for our district that come with winning aren't desperately needed, but they're still appreciated - making Cato the most popular person around.

I try visiting his house, but his mother has no clue who I am - and tells me that he isn't home anyway. Maybe she's lying, or maybe he's out tending to victor responsibilities. I don't know, and I try to tell myself I don't care. But it's a lie. I go to visit the spot we used to frequent on our secret rendezvous. My breath hitches when I see someone occupying my usual spot, but I'm quickly filled with anger.

"What are you doing here?!" I demand, storming over as Cato turns to face me.

"I-I," he stutters. "I just wanted to get away from all the attention."

"Oh poor you, being alive and getting everyone's love. It must be hard!" I spit snidely.

Cato shakes his head, giving me a look I can't read. "See you later," is he all says, turning to leave.

"Wait!" I almost scream, and my hands reach out instinctively before I can stop them. "Please don't leave me alone." I sound so weak and pathetic.

"I have to go," Cato insists.

"Why don't you want to be near me?" I cry out, sounding like a little kid. "Why won't you talk to me? Why did you just walk away that day at the train station?" I have a million questions to ask, but these are the ones that come out first."

"I just," Cato starts and then stops with a sight. "You shouldn't be with me, it's wrong."

I stop dead in my tracks. Did I hear him right? "We're wrong?" I ask in disbelief. "Has the past year been wrong?"

"Just forget it, ok?" Cato says with a shake of his head, and he goes to leave again.

Now I'm furious. "No!" I scream. "No, I won't forget it! I spent the last two weeks wondering if I'd ever see you again. Then when I knew I would, I spent the days wishing time would go quicker. Then the day arrived for you to come home, and all you've done since is blow me off! I want to know what I've done!"

Cato spins so suddenly I almost crash into him. "What _you've_ done?!" he yells. "Remedy, are you joking me? How can you stand to be near me after what I did?! How do you not hate me?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask weakly, fighting back tears.

"I let Clove die," Cato whispers, his hands coming up to grip the sides of his head. "I let her die, even when I promised you I'd get her home." He's crying now. "I didn't want to win."

I grip him fiercely. "Cato," I whisper, pulling his face to mine and kissing him softly. I can taste the salt from his tears, and it's the strangest sensation. "No matter what happened, no one ever wins. Just the Capitol. But I'm glad you're here."

We both pull back and look at each other. I can't believe I just said that. Speaking against the Capitol isn't allowed. And saying that I was glad Cato was here? Maybe in a horrible way it was true. Maybe I wanted Cato to come home instead of Clove all along.

"But-" Cato starts, but I cut him off with another kiss, this one more urgent.

"I lost Clove, I can't lose you," I say dumbly, but it's so painfully true. My hands run down his face, down his neck, his shoulders, his arms, down to his hands. I bring them up to my face and watch them shake in my grip.

I wince a little as I think of them shaking after Cato killed Wrath. I shake my head minutely, and bring them to my lips, kissing each knuckle, then each finger tip. It doesn't matter, what happened in the arena. It doesn't matter that he killed people, because he's here now. He's different, because no one could come out of that arena and not be changed. But still, it doesn't matter.

I let go of Cato's hands begin to unbutton his dress shirt.

"What are you doing?" Cato asks.

I push the shirt back and watch it fall onto the ground. "Rediscovering you," I say quietly, kissing his chest where the scar from Layla's knife is. I look up to Cato's sky blue eyes, still so distant and closed off from me. "Let me," I urge.

In that instant the barrier breaks down, and it's almost like nothing has changed. Cato is back, his hands lift me effortlessly, and he lays us on the ground. I think back to when we'd sneak away from the academy to do this. It's almost exactly the same. His hands, that I know can be brutal, skim over every inch of my skin, treating me as though I'm a delicate flower. His lips, that spit vicious and unsettling words, whisper only the sweetest of nothings in my ears. His eyes, that first hand saw the most disturbing of times, expose his soul to me.

"I love you," Cato says as he looks down at me.

For the first time in weeks, I smile. A smile of true happiness. "I love you too."

Quite a short story, but there will be a follow up about life after the games for Remedy and Cato :-D so please review and love and send me messages cuz i love being social, and I'll update ASAP :-D


End file.
